Rigged from the start
by JazzyDashy
Summary: Princess Peach makes a hasty wager with Zelda that she can turn an uncouth Link into a gentleman. She should've known she was being played from the start.


**Rigged from the start**

A **Super Smash Bros**. Peach x Link commission for Hei Kitsune.

by Dash Anhelo

* * *

Peach all but whimpered as she felt him devour her. The bristly stubble from his chin sent pinpricks through her breast as he suckled her, tongue lathing over her tender nipple. He was firm and she was silk, and the Princess was sure she'd be marked from it all – her porcelain chest had barely seen the light of day, and she'd be amazed if he weren't leaving a bruise or two.

"This isn't proper," she gasped, hating how breathless she sounded. This wasn't her. She was above all this – she was stronger than this. If it were anyone else, she'd have leaned back and forced her heel into their gut by now. She should've done it anyway. How dare this uncultured swordsman mark her bosom with his lips and teeth? And _Gods_ , the way his tongue flicked over her nipple sent shocks straight between her thighs.

If it were anyone else, Peach would've stopped them. _Hurt_ them. But she couldn't help but wind her un-gloved hand through his messy hair and _pull_. Keep him trapped against her breast and have him devour her unblemished skin. This was wrong – so, so wrong, she thought. It was improper for a lady of Royal blood to be seen un-gloved, for goodness sake.

Peach couldn't help but grab another fistful of his hair as she felt his hands come up to her hips, lifting her dress up and squeezing where her stockings hugged her thighs. He didn't stop there – it seemed like he rarely stopped, always pushing against whatever boundaries opposed him. She could admire that about him, even when she had to acknowledge that her frilly panties _were_ his current boundary.

"This isn't right," she said again, her lip trembling as his bare hands slid under the elasticised fabric. He grabbed her bum, kneading, squeezing, molesting her modest backside in a way that left her feeling giddy.

"Tell me to stop," he muttered, leaning away from her chest to taste her throat. The stubble brushed her skin, and she felt alarmed at the thought that he had left a mark that she couldn't conceal. Some scratchy rash that would let Daisy and Rosalina and Zelda nudge one another and whisper of the shameful things she might have done.

She squeezed her eyes shut as torrents of images came to the front of her mind. She had always thought of lovemaking with a sense of grace and restraint – a couple with the sheet covering their nudity and just enough stimulation to bring them to climax. All those thoughts went out the door with this one uncouth man. No hiding, no shame, no awkwardness – just raw, primal urges.

 _'Don't stop_ ,' she thought, cheeks alight with heat as he continued to grab her ass and tease her neck. Peach tilted to the side to give him more access, eager to feel _more_. More everything. She had no idea anyone could be as wet as she was right then and there. Surely she'd have to throw her underwear away.

Not before it hung from her ankle while he fucked her raw, she thought giddily.

"I think I lost my bet," was all she managed to chirp, her heart fluttering a mile an hour as she felt Link chuckle and kiss her neck. Inhaled the scent of musk and sweat from his brow. Felt his arousal through his slacks, bumping against the crux of her legs. For _her_. Reacting from _her_ , to need her body. To mate. Rut. Screw. Fuck.

 _'Don't stop don't stop don't stop_.' The words became a mantra as she parted her legs, needing to feel more of him.

* * *

It had started, like anything else, on a spring afternoon.

Satin gloves gently pinched polished silver tongs. They were exquisitely crafted – the modest, mushroom-styled symbol glinting in the afternoon sun as they were lifted and turned over. They gently clamped over perfectly balanced cubes of sugar, hovering in the air for a moment before dropping them over a steaming cup of tea. A spoon crafted of the same set slipped inside afterwards, barely touching the inside of the china as it stirred.

Princess Toadstool – Peach to those that knew her – chimed her spoon against the rim of the cup before setting it down on her saucer. She held it in a practised fashion, the handle between her thumb and index fingers (and pinky extended) before lifting it to her glossy lips and sipping.

"The holidays will be here soon," she murmured, noticing the scent of pine needles wafting from nearby. A chorus of affirmative murmurs answered her as Daisy, Rosalina and Zelda nodded and agreed, sipping from similar cups beneath the shade of a parasol. Their little 'cabal' had no name, though they had each heard the others whispering. "The Princess Parade" was apparently the name that stuck.

Ah well, Peach mused – not exceptionally creative, but you got what was advertised.

"I suppose I'll have to go and make the palace 'Luigi proof' again," Daisy replied, setting her cup down and sighing wistfully. The younger Mario brother was certainly well known for being accident-prone. "I don't suppose you'd want to give him another quest, Rose…?"

The newest member of their little group waved a hand as she dropped another cube of sugar into her tea. Rosalina liked things sweet – probably from enjoying honey-like starbits so often as she grew up.

"He's got a good heart," she sighed. "But he can be a little… _much_. I'm actually taking his brother back for another adventure soon – it became quite the odyssey."

"Trust me, Rosalina." Zelda swallowed the last of her tea and set the cup down. "You're dodging an arrow. I think the colour green must rob men of manners – every time Link has visited Hyrule Castle he causes havoc."

Rosalina was too polite to comment, but Daisy snickered behind her china. Peach was simply confused.

"I thought that was _his_ fault," she mused, nodding off across the lawn where Ganon lumbered beside Bowser, finding their amusement wherever they could.

"Most of it, sure," Zelda said. "The few times Ganondorf has breached us; he has left utter chaos in his wake. _But_ \- he is not interested in breaking pots."

A look of confusion passed between the girls.

"Not sure I follow," Daisy hummed.

"Sometimes, Link finds money in a pot – that is all the reason he needs to smash them. Every. Single. Time."

"Maybe you should actually pay him, Zel," Daisy smirked, opening a brief dialogue between them all over 'suitable heroic rewards.' But Zelda merely waved her hand in dismissal and looked back across the table to Daisy.

"Just trust me – Link's a hero, sure, but you've still got an easier job dealing with Luigi. I promise you that."

"You can't truly mean that," Peach said. Oh – she had seen firsthand what Luigi was capable of without even trying. More than once he had won a kart race by 'accidentally' reversing at the start and wiping out the rest of the competition.

"Peach? I will always have time for Link," Zelda said carefully, sitting back in her chair and clasping her gloved hands together. "Providing it is someone else's garden he is blasting holes into at the time. And even then, the poor lad can hardly carry a conversation. It is always just… fighting and napping. He is the anti-gentleman."

Rosalina looked startled. Daisy, bemused. And Peach… found herself intrigued. She had little to do with the Hylian, but surely Zelda was exaggerating. Right?

"Are you sure you're not telling tall tales, Zelda?" she asked, remembering a time when Mario had drained the moat of her castle and allowed rabbits to hop in the basement. But the other Princess just arched her brow coolly, a tiny smirk forming over her own painted mouth.

"Well, Peach, let's make… a wager, shall we?" She felt the eyes on the other girls bouncing between her and Zelda, but she kept her attention on the Hylian. Decorum demanded it, after all.

"I'm listening." Zelda's smile turned sweeter. Of all of them, Peach was the classic Royal figure. Patient, elegant and noble.

"Why don't you take our Link under your hypothetical wing?" she asked, and Peach had to fight to keep her eyebrows from shooting into her hairline. "If anyone has any chance at all to pull it off, it would be our Mushroom Kingdom Princess."

She didn't like it. She felt like she was… what was that off-colour phrase? _'Being played_.' But she trusted Zelda to be above such things and sparing a look at Daisy and Rosalina betrayed only their curiosity.

"You may not recognise him afterwards," she said carefully, wondering if the Hylian had any more to add. Some remark or look that would give her more insight into the madness she proposed. But Zelda only smiled and waved the comment away. Peach wasn't sure if she felt relief or frustration from it.

"Darling, I will be cheering for it. But I would understand if you thought it was not proper…"

She sniffed at the verbal barb, setting her cup of tea onto the table.

"You forget – _noblesse oblige_." She had been an athlete time and again, proving to her little critics that she was a Princess of the people. She would show, yet again, that it was possible to have grace and grounding. Zelda would get her wager.

BREAK

Thirty minutes on and Peach had felt somewhat dirty. Her bravado of rising to the challenge evaporated when she mused and mulled on just what they were competing for. And then Daisy opened her mouth, chirping a suggestion that Zelda found perfect.

The ruby had never been given a proper name, but Mario had insisted when he brought it back from one of his adventures that he had gone above and beyond to secure it. Princess Toadstool had accepted it gracefully as another token of appreciation, displaying it under glass in the east wing of her castle.

And now it was on its way to Rosalina, who held the signed (and witnessed) contract between herself and Zelda. On the grand scale of appropriateness, she wasn't sure where using Mario's gifted ruby as a bet on Link sat. It probably didn't exist on the rule. But, she quickly reminded herself, Zelda had similarly surrendered a valuable gem. She hadn't gone into many details, but Peach suspected the emerald was a similar gift from someone.

It didn't put her mind at ease in the slightest, so she lifted her chin and pushed it to the back of her thoughts instead. She was overthinking this, now. Daisy was right. Link was quiet, yes. Uncultured? Perhaps. But indeed, he wasn't as bad as Zelda made him out to be. And if anyone was in a position to bring someone up the social ladder, it was Peach Toadstool.

 _'Nothing to worry about_ ,' she thought, coming to a stop at the room where Link resided whenever the tournament was on. Gloved knuckles rapped against the door and she waited. Good manners, she thought – she'd start off on the right foot with her impression and then see where he stacked up.

She waited. Her hand came up and knocked again - louder this time. Seconds ticked by. Her mood began to slowly sour.

"Link? Can I have a word?" Addressing a door was not her idea of decorum, but she couldn't begin unless they were face to face. And still, the door didn't answer her. She spared a look down the hallway before turning the doorknob, fretting for a moment over what could be construed from her sneaking into the swordsman's room.

All thoughts fled when she pushed the door open and was met with chaos. The modest rooms that had been afforded to them looked tiny compared to her own. But Peach didn't leave clothing strewn about the floor or equipment cluttered on various surfaces.

Link, it seemed, had no reservations with turning his quarters into an armoury. At least that's what it reminded her of. Tunics and chainmail and belts of various lengths were piled here and there, while the kitchenette bench had a collection of bombs on one end. The sharp scents of oil and polish and gunpowder tickled her nose.

"What did I get myself into," she lamented, squinting as motes of dust flitted through the air in front of her eyes.

"My room?" Her heart leapt into her throat, hand covering her mouth as a squeak escaped her. Peach wondered what she could possibly say to explain her being there. Sensible reasons had fled her mind, still recovering from the surprise. Her experiences with Link were few and far between. She knew him as a quiet man with a neutral outlook on the world. She had forgotten just how rough and scratchy his voice was, probably from disuse. She wasn't aware he was a little taller than her, either.

She didn't think the way his eyes scrutinised her, lips pulling into a slow frown as he waited, would look quite so… intimidating. She felt her hackles rise, despite being caught snooping around his chambers.

"If you're looking for Zelda," he began, and she held her hand up to halt him. She would have to get used to his throaty voice soon, she thought, if she was going to get anywhere. But not yet – not until her heart calmed down first.

"Actually, I was looking for you," she said, watching his malty eyebrows ascend. _'Better_ ,' she thought. The look of mild surprise was instantly more preferable than the discomfort he had at having caught her. "I apologise for letting myself in – I knocked and called, but-"

"It's fine." He waved her concern away and felt herself be taken aback. Not so much by how quickly he had begun to relax, but from how familiar he seemed. Even if she had just done the same to him, well…

Princess Peach was not used to being interrupted.

"No," she said firmly, folding her hands. "It was improper of me to enter your abode. Please accept my apology, Link." He was quiet for a moment, mulling it over, she thought. Instead, he turned and switched on the overhead fan, disturbing the dust in the air before he slid past her and into the kitchenette.

"Alright."

Peach swallowed, willing herself not to begin fidgeting. She felt… To say she felt out of place was an understatement.

"Can we talk?"

He had already sat down on a stool, having pulled a cask of water from the refrigerator and turning his attention to a pile of black powder that had been sitting on the bench. "By all means." She frowned, not at all used to being so casually ignored in someone's presence. And she waited, having been taught from such a young age that a lady does merely not help herself to a seat in someone's abode unless it was offered.

"Can we talk about you?" She fidgeted then and reprimanded herself, though she doubted he saw. He seemed too busy with collecting a paper scoop full of powder and gently tapping it into a black bomb casing. But he nodded, and an affirmative noise accompanied it.

Well, she mused – at least he was listening.

"So," she began, suddenly aware of how ridiculous their situation was. Should she come right out and admit she had made a wager…? She didn't think Link was the sort to make things difficult for her, but then they had essentially turned him into a social experiment. That… was perhaps not very regal of her. "Since you mentioned her, you should know I was talking to Zelda this afternoon. And she thought that perhaps-"

"She'd talk you into cleaning me up?" The words died in her throat. Peach had to remember to close her mouth so as not to 'let the flies in.' As much as she was relieved that that was out in the open, now she knew without a doubt that she had been taken advantage of.

"So," she said again, looking down at where her fingers entwined. "Is Zelda after something in particular? Or is it just easier to pull this kind of practical joke on me?" Link said nothing for a moment, carefully pressing powder into the narrow opening before pushing a length of fuse inside.

"I think you mean 'we're easy,' Princess," he remarked, sealing the explosive up and wiping his filthy hand on a filthier rag. Preach tried not to wrinkle her nose at it. "She's been suggesting this long enough – having you or Rosa turning me into something else." He looked up from his work, hand making a vague motion as if he was trying to catch the words from hanging in front of him.

"Make me more blue-blooded," he seemed to finally settle on, nodding at his words before tossing the cloth into the sink behind him. "I'm amazed it took her this long, really."

Peach tried not to sniff, her humour having surely been chafed from this development. She had the sneaking suspicion that Link wasn't impressed with it either. But then that had been a risk from the start of it all.

"So – what was it?" He reached for another casing, looking up from his work to give her a curious look before shifting his gunpowder about. "Bribe? Bet? I can't imagine her asking nicely enough." Well, then. She was learning all sorts of things about Zelda today, she mused.

"A wager." There wasn't any point in keeping the truth from him. It sounded more and more like he was expecting it all, anyhow. "To see if I could… well, yes. You already know, don't you?" A wager to see if she could make him into a gentleman. Looking back on it all… it seemed especially foolish. Silly in the least. Offensive at worst.

"How much?" He hadn't looked up from his work, sorting the black powder into another paper scoop before he began funnelling.

"A rare ruby – a gift."

"I'll get it back for you." Still, he didn't look up. He seemed almost resigned to it. He had been expecting it long enough – maybe he actually had planned for it. Link the swordsman, hero to his Kingdom. Breaking into the Princess' castle to steal back a gem. A silly notion, but then the day seemed full of them already.

"I don't think it's really –"

"I insist. And _you_ were taken for a ride, believe me." Another fuse core was lowered into the case. If she didn't know better, she still would've believed he was talking about his bomb-making. Either way, he had yet again interrupted her. And despite the situation they found themselves in, she was beginning to grow tired of it.

She cast a look around the room again, and the various collections of equipment and clothing that made up his possessions. In her castle, she wouldn't have allowed Toad to keep the broom closets in such a shambles, never mind an entire room. Never mind an apartment they were renting. She turned back to the Hylian, just in time to watch him drink a mouthful of water directly from the cask. He wiped his chin on his sleeve, attention focused solely on his work.

"She is honest, though." Peach couldn't help herself. Even if he wasn't unkind towards her, the fact of the matter was that she was a Princess. And she expected a bit more civility from people she associated with, regardless of the circumstances. "You, Link, are a mess."

He said nothing for a long time. He merely stared at her, eyes not quite focused, as though he was looking through her. She was quickly beginning to doubt he had that kind of philosophical outlook, however.

"I guess I am," he finally murmured. She was taken back for a moment – the gravelly voice he possessed still sounding so raw to her. But most of all it seemed like resignation. Or indifference, perhaps. He knew what he was. But she knew better than to assume he was unhappily accepting it. For whatever faults he had, his courage was infamous.

Either he didn't care to change, or he didn't want to change. A lot of daylight between the two, but neither of which she could appreciate.

"At least tell me you don't leave your room in such a condition."

She wasn't impressed when he actually rolled his eyes at her question.

"I leave it the same way as I found it." He dropped his small tools and leaned on the bench, giving her a dull look from behind his messy blonde hair. "Just like Sam does before she goes back to space. Just like Kong before he swings back to some jungle. And just like you and Zelda before you go back to your palaces. I pack up all this –" He gave his room a sweep of his hand. "- and I go home to the quiet life of a farm hand."

Peach was quiet throughout his speech, trying to decide if she was witnessing a temper tantrum or honest cynicism. "If you're done complaining about your lot in life…"

His arms folded across his chest, eyebrow quirked as he leaned back on his stool.

"Zelda still hasn't stopped complaining about how my 'elbows touch the table' when I eat," he responded flatly. "And I say if that's her biggest worry, she has nothing to complain about. And now you're here to take her side and tell me otherwise, right?" She said nothing, though her ire was quickly growing as he talked.

"It is uncouth manners, Link."

"Screw them."

Her eyes went wide, confident that she would have never heard the swordsman speak so much, let alone curse. But he did, and it was directed at her. It was enough to bring a rising heat to her face, and Peach couldn't tell if what she was feeling was irritation or outright anger.

"Apologise," she said immediately. Demanded.

"No."

"I am of _Royal_ blood."

"You're not my Royal, though," he said stubbornly. "And if this is your biggest worry, then you and Zelda ought to be close friends. She doesn't have real problems, either."

She wrung her hands together, sure that she was feeling nothing but anger for the Hylian now.

"I have often thought you were noble," she said, with no shortage of bitterness. "At the very least I thought you had honour. But I had no idea you were so rude."

He couldn't have looked more indifferent if he tried, and it pushed her temper further. "You come in here, tell me you've made a bet on me, and that I'm a typical messy commoner."

"I said no such-"

"Not in so many words, but you said it." He gave her a withering look before pulling his work towards him again, finding his focus in applying oil to a mechanism. "Go tell Zelda I'm beyond help. Remind her that Marth's already house-broken."

Peach tried to force herself to speak. To retort. To shoot down the outrageous Hylian and remind him that bettering oneself was a worthwhile endeavour to embrace. But she couldn't – she was still shaking from anger. 'How dare he,' she thought, turning on her heel. How dare he behave in such a manner when she came to offer help.

She marched to the door with purpose and left the messy room and it's occupant behind, determined to forget all about the unpleasantness.

* * *

Sleep did not come easily to her that night.

After her initial confrontation with Link (and deciding Zelda was right – he was beyond help), she strode off to the arena for an impromptu battle against Robin. She had always believed in turning the other cheek. In rising above such petty squabbles. But if there was one sound advantage to this tournaments, she found that a good melee was much more therapeutic than kart racing or tennis.

She later had to apologise to Lucina. She couldn't say sorry to Robin – they were still unconscious. But she did feel somewhat better about things. Unburdened, even. It was easy not to think of smarmy Hylian's in the heat of battle.

And then she retired to her room, where she had no defence from the guilty thoughts creeping up on her. Peach always tried to sleep early and thoroughly. Rest was essential to anyone. But it felt like all the creature comforts she was afforded were working against her, somehow.

She slept in silk sheets, similar to the ones she had in her bedchamber back in the Mushroom Kingdom. They were cool and caressed her sweetly. But that evening she couldn't help but think again of so many random bits and pieces she had heard since coming to the battles.

'I can't wait to watch Link fight Ganon,' Toad had once gushed. 'I hear he once spent a night in a Gerudo cell just to rescue some kidnapped carpenters.'

Peach was reasonably sure that desert prisons did not have silk sheets to help their captives sleep at night.

Zelda had once sighed over the plum wine they were able to acquire at the tournament, before confessing how good it was to enjoy it with another 'connoisseur.' Because Link drank water and Lon Lon milk and potions, instead.

'Hey, Zel. What's Link like in bed?' It was over a year since Daisy leaned across the table and leered, and Peach was sure she had never been so embarrassed by her cousin.

'I don't know – he's still sleeping on the ground, mostly.'

They had all laughed at that one. Peach thought it was just a joke – something to take the lurid tension out of the air. Now she wasn't so sure.

When the matches were over, Toad would come and pack up her trunk and cases, and she would be whisked back home to her castle. It was what she was born into. Just as Zelda was sure to gather her things and return to ruling over Hyrule. Link, she suspected, would collect his worldly possessions back up and return to the farm where he lived.

Or forest village. Or townhouse. Or just go back to wandering. She didn't know. But she could understand his brashness over being told he 'wasn't good enough' to socialise with Royals. After all, he only regularly saved their kingdoms.

"I owe yet another apology, don't I?" The room didn't answer – there was just the steady hum of the air conditioner built over her bed.

Link had a dusty ceiling fan.

* * *

She waited in front of his door for a moment, steeling herself. Peach always believed that when in the wrong, the best a person could do was to look a person in the eye and offer a heartfelt apology. But she wouldn't deny that being back here again so soon was intimidating for her.

She inhaled, held her breath, and knocked on the door. And waited. Silence met her.

Awkwardness began to be replaced with mild annoyance. The sensation of déjà vu was genuine as she knocked again, hearing noises inside the room but no indication that she had been heard.

 _'Here we go again_ ,' she thought, opening the door and calling out before she was all the way inside. "Link! It's me. I've come to apolo-" She was once again cut short. In all the years she had known him, Peach had not once seen him without his trademark tunic and hat. Now…He was decent, at least. She told herself that before the heat in her cheeks threatened to embarrass her further.

Scruffy was a right word to describe him, she thought, watching the swordsman give her a dry look from near the en-suite. Dressed in the ever-present underclothes and chain metal vest, Link waved a razor towards her as if it were a feather duster. "Welcome back," he gravelled. "Come in. Make yourself at home." And then he turned his back on her again, facing the bathroom mirror and studying his face.

To think he actually had sparse, blond whiskers growing over his face she thought, as he began to shave his cheek carefully.

"I'm intruding –"

"I _invite you in_ ," he said with exasperation, pausing in his task to look over his shoulder. "Now you can't be accused of being less than Majesty-like." The awkwardness she felt from before came back with a vengeance. She struggled not to play with the front of her dress or fiddle with her fingers. Or look around the messy room again, in case it appeared that she was judging him anew.

"Thank you," she said in a small voice. With nothing else to do she came to the edge of the small bathroom and waited. The idea that he grew an actual stubble was something she never would've put stock into. It was easy to become distracted as he sheared off the small hairs from his face.

"Sorry for yesterday," he said, breaking the silence and breaking her train of thoughts. "I was an ass." She looked away, once again unprepared for vulgarities.

"I came to say sorry myself. It's not my place to judge you or your lifestyle." There, she thought. It was done. Not quite the same as looking him in the eye, but it would suffice.

"Don't worry about it." Another collection of whiskers fell to the sink. "But _you_ were taken advantage of by Zelda. She probably knew all this would've happened." She just nodded, having quickly become preoccupied with the motions he made with the razor.

"Yes, I'm starting to realise that."

"So, what's the plan?" She blinked. Plan? Her brow furrowed as he sat the blade on the sink, washing away the hairs and brushing his chin.

"I'm not sure I'm following." He gave her a curious look as he brushed past her, and she was confident her face was growing warm again. She wasn't used to this level of familiarity. Not even Toad or Mario brushed past her or slid bodily against her. And she was starting to wonder if what she was feeling was offence, or just bashfulness.

"You're not going to let her get away with it, are you?" He shook his head, grabbing one of his tunics from the back of a chair and pulling it on. It was striking just how much of a difference it made to his appearance. He looked… well, less scruffy, certainly. More of the familiar swordsman. She realised yet again that she was staring as he hooked a belt around his waist.

"I'm not sure what you're suggesting, Link." Acting? Cheating? She couldn't imagine him doing either things, really.

"Well, I can't even pretend to be blue-blooded to save either of our lives." He finished buckling his various belts and Peach couldn't help but nod. Even now that he was properly dressed, his rough voice and forward demeanour wouldn't fit in with any castle that she knew of. Not unless it was the guardhouse. "So, who's holding onto your bauble?"

"Rosalina." She didn't bother to correct him. The ruby was the size of his fist, but after being in his room twice in two days, she thought she began to understand his thought process. And if her gem couldn't be traded or sold for another dangerous weapon, it was probably no better than a Christmas tree ornament.

"She does seem like the trustworthy type," he muttered. "So, do we ask her nicely to hand it over? If you wait until Zelda's home I might have a few ideas of where she'd keep it." So, she was wrong – he wasn't above stealing it back. She just had to remind herself that he was offering to commit a capital crime for her.

"I don't think either of those will work, Link." He gave her a bemused look.

"You really are too nice, you know that?"

She felt her cheeks growing hot again, and she wasn't sure why.

"Come on," he said, fastening his gauntlets and slapping his cap over his hair. "She's not won her little wager yet." He held the door open for her and nodded out to the hallway, waiting for her to come. She couldn't help but think that yes – Zelda had won. Even if he was the sort to hold a door open for a lady, there was no chance of turning Link into a gentleman.

Princess Peach found her daily routine was drastically different with Link in tow. If the day was bright enough for her to enjoy a stroll around the stadium, she often walked with her parasol and an air of calm grace. And of course, if she happened to walk by Bowser or Falcon, she politely and firmly refused their offer to hold her hand.

With Link ambling alongside her, however, she had to contend instead with the odd catcall or whistle from others walking by. Even Samus, encased in her power suit, had to stop and make a comment.

"Money so tight you're playing bodyguard, Link?" she teased, voice distorted through the filter of her suit.

"I'm paying her so _you_ won't jump on me, Aran," he gravelled back, earning a rude gesture and a sarcastic laugh. Peach was sure before the end of the day the blood vessels in her cheeks would have been permanently damaged. Though privately, she had to admit there was some barbaric satisfaction in actually hearing someone match wit with wit.

She almost hoped Bowser would cross their path, wondering what scathing comment the Hylian would rasp out.

By the time she finished her circuit around the stadium, she had also managed to shoot down three of his 'ideas' for securing her ruby. Ideas were a strong word, really. He actually asked her what Rosalina's 'type' was, and she dared not think of what he was planning to do with that little pearl of wisdom.

She was also forced to admit that by lunchtime, he was a terrible influence on her.

"What's that?" he asked, brow quirked and nodding towards her plate.

"You've heard of salad, correct?"

"No, _those_. How many forks do you need?"

"Don't be vulgar." She sniffed and reached for the tiny cutlery, reasoning with herself that only a barbarian would skewer pineapple with the wrong fork.

"If I were vulgar, I'd say don't be such a pussy." The heat once again exploded on her face.

"I really have lost my ruby," she huffed.

"If you used just one fork, you could afford two of them."

"Are you serious?"

"Are you _scared_?"

Peach stabbed her fruit with a fork, pushing it into her mouth and glaring at him. The smirk he gave her was infuriating.

"That didn't hurt, did it?" She huffed and looked away, chewing her pineapple piece. Peach was just glad her finishing school mistress couldn't see her now. Even an act so small felt like she was breaking a dozen rules of the decorum she lived her life around.

Maybe, she thought, it was why her heart was beginning to thump a little harder in her chest. The times she played tennis to a cheering crowd were enough to get her adrenalin spiking. And now she felt the same excitement inside at making the swordsman shut up about her forks.

The afternoon sped by. The evening was much of the same as before. The more time she spent in his company, the more they argued or played off of each other's comfort. Few were the times they agreed. Peach began to force herself to get used to the idea that she had lost this one and to move on. She had to admit, though, that it was easy to forget when the Hylian was getting under her skin more and more.

"I don't care what you think of it," she said, jabbing a finger into his chest as she pointed at his kitchenette. "It's filthy, and it's dangerous. Clean up that gunpowder now."

"You know you're rather cute when you're angry." She was confident her hot cheeks and her escalating heartbeat were more from anger than embarrassment.

"Link," she growled.

"Peach," he gravelled back.

"You're impossible. Infuriating!"

"Now you're actually kinda hot."

She stood on her toes, meeting him in the eyes and narrowing them.

"Clean. Your fucking. Bench." She could feel her blood pounding in her ears. Her breathing was enough to make her chest heave. The smirk on his worn lips made it worse.

"Fuck you."

"You're not good enough to kiss my hand." She didn't know where that came from. A day spent with him had sullied her. Corrupted her.

She squeaked as he pulled her forward, hand in the back of her hair before he pressed his mouth against hers. The utter nerve! The audacity! Her heart pounded as she tasted the ale he had drank before and felt his rough mouth on her own.

 _Slap_! She struck him across the cheek, hard enough for her own palm to sting. Her breathing was coming in short puffs, leaving her hot and angry. Adrenalin seemed to course from somewhere inside her.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, glossy from the balm she used to keep hers moist and soft and perfect.

Peach grabbed the front of his tunic and all but slammed her mouth back against his. He was warm and firm and everything she wasn't. Everything she shouldn't have to deal with. She was a Royal Princess, and he was an uncouth son of a bitch.

She actually bit him for it all, leaving him groaning against her. She was a mess of nerves and anger and excitement. She wanted to hurt him. To somehow corrupt him the same way he had sullied her. To make him begin to ache the same way she was feeling inside since he dared to kiss her so boldly.

She knew that plan was gone the moment he pulled an arm around her narrow waist, picking her up off the ground. Miles and miles of frilly pink dress didn't stop her from lifting one of her legs and wrapping it around his hips. In all of her adventures and athletics, she never felt like she was playing such a dangerous game as she did when she peeled the satin glove from her hand and brushed his hat off his head, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

His tongue licked across her lip, sucking it, breaking a dozen rules of decorum and rewarding her. She honestly felt rewarded for following these dangerous instincts. She was making fresh gambles all over again – she was more corrupted and sullied than she thought she must have been for wanting this.

And she _did_ want it. One full, firm hand brushed off the front of her skirt, over her belly and up to her supple chest. Peach was more concerned with him damaging her dress instead of pawing at her. The irony wasn't lost on her as she reached behind to untie herself, loosening the fabric enough to push it down over her modest bra. He unfastened it a second later and tore a throaty moan from her as he took a puffy nipple into his mouth.

She couldn't care less about irony after that, kicking her heels off and feeling the sting of the tiles against her stockinged feet. She felt hot all over. She should've pushed him away, covered her chest, and remind him of who she was.

Instead, she wished they were in her room, where her air conditioning unit was so much stronger than the weak overhead fan.

"This isn't proper," she whispered, walking with him over to his bedding, arching against him as he palmed her tender breasts. They sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"This isn't _right_ ," she mewled, feeling her core grow wetter still as his warm hands slid inside her panties to grope her bum. She could almost hear Daisy's tomboy voice in her mind, claiming it wasn't right that he hadn't returned the favour yet. She could feel his arousal pressing through his clothes.

She would rather curl her fingers around it and feel it fully.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped in her ear. She didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. Not when every brush of his hips against hers sent such beautiful shocks through her, leaving her hissing and making her toes curl in her stockings.

She often fantasised about lovemaking, where she would recline on a regal bed while her wedding gown lay nearby. And whoever she married would hover over her and whisper loving things as they slid in and out of her core, stoking her nerves and bringing her to her climax.

Peach didn't care that her beloved pink dress was bunched around her middle. The bed was hard. Her hair was a mess. One of her stockings had rolled down to her ankle where her sodden bloomers hung. She just didn't care. All that mattered was the brilliant bolt of pleasure she felt when Link brushed his fingers across her bare folds. When the thickened head of his shaft slid over her clit, making her hiss and mewl and arch.

She gasped and moaned and swore when she felt him push forward. Her lips opened, stretching around his cock as he filled her up. She couldn't think properly and didn't want to. She just wanted more.

"You still haven't said stop," he rumbled, licking his lips as he settled against her. Her legs tightened around his hips and she squeezed him with her slippery core.

"Don't you _fucking_ dare," she whispered. He chuckled against her neck, before beginning to move inside her and the rest of the world fell away.

* * *

Zelda stirred her tea, eyes flicking up now and again to Peach before picking up her cup.

"I love your new scarf," she said, and Peach had to admit, she did sound wholly genuine about it. A silk accessory of pale blue that caressed her neck.

She wasn't surprised when she looked in the mirror that morning to find red marks on her neck. She surprised herself by how little she cared about it. After all, they were nothing compared to the bruises on her thighs or the bites on her chest. She didn't dare to look at the mess of come that clung to her tingling folds, choosing instead to jump straight into the shower and wash herself off.

"Felt like it was a bit cooler today," she said, fighting the blush that rose to her cheeks as she began to recall the evening before.

"I like it. A little bit of change is good now and again." Peach simply nodded. The irony was not lost on her.

"About our little wager, Zelda…"

The other Princess sighed and shook her head, waving it away.

"You know what? Do not worry about it. It was a silly idea to start with. Besides." She sipped her tea and set the cup down. "I saw you spent virtually all day with Link yesterday. If anything, I would say you have earned both prizes."

That did surprise her, but she hid behind her teacup, trying not to let her eyebrows betray just how humbled she suddenly felt. Still, even if it was an excellent little peace offering, it wasn't what she had in mind.

"Actually, I was going to suggest we end it now and you keep both." Peach sat her teacup down and folded her hands. "You're right – there's no chance of turning him into a gentleman."

"That's an understatement." They shared a friendly laugh, where Peach smoothed a crease in her dress and Zelda took another sip of tea.

"Well, either way, I think I'd feel better if we honour our little deal. You ought to have the ruby, Zelda."

"Peach, there is really no need for-" She was stopped as Peach lifted her hand, effectively cutting her off mid-sentence.

"I insist. I've taken it as a lesson, and I'd like you to keep it." Zelda frowned, her brows knitting together.

"Is everything okay…? I do not want you to think I was mean to you…"

"It's fine," she smiled. "Really. Besides, I may have lost a gem, but I still think I won a little bit. If you'll excuse me?" She stood and smoothed her dress, lifting up her parasol. Zelda's confusion grew by the second.

"O-of course. But… If you are sure. Where are you going?"

Peach offered her a kind smile. She didn't want Zelda to feel distressed. And, in a way, she felt like even if she had lost her ruby, she had still achieved a victory or two from it all.

"I'm meeting Link for lunch," she answered, popping the shade of her parasol. "You're quite right – a change really is good for the soul." And with nothing further, she turned and strolled away, leaving a mute Zelda behind her. She was probably running late, already. Link had agreed to her offer but insisted that he'd probably 'screw decorum' and either plant a kiss on her or rest her hand on her backside. She promised a smack with her parasol if he did.

She hoped he would do it, anyway.


End file.
